


Know thyself biblically

by misgivings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Orientation Questioning, Self-cest, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misgivings/pseuds/misgivings
Summary: “So, uh. Pretty fucking gay, huh?” you manage.“Majorly. Fucking, homoerotic as shit,” he says, and leans closer.“Good kiss, though?”“Dude, it's us. We only do shit bad on purpose,”Dave asks Dave for a favor before he has to go.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde/Dave Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Sloppy Seconds 2020





	Know thyself biblically

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forkidcest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkidcest/gifts).



TG: care to explain to me why i just saw you with a different me  
TT: You sound like a jealous boyfriend.  
TT: I only just woke up. Let me finish my coffee before you rip into me and accuse me of infidelity.  
TG: man i don't care you could have sucked him off in front of me for all i care  
TG: i mean what is he doing here  
TG: i guess i would actually be kinda disappointed in myself if i came back in time just to get head  
TG: thereby making hells of problems for myself  
TT: From his perspective, he already made hells of problems. Who is he to turn down some predestined ‘sloppy toppy’?  
TT: Though you need not worry your [jealous] little head. I'm not going to blow him.  
TG: oh alright  
TG: gentlemen cancel the alarms and return to defcon five  
TG: future dave is here but not to put his cock in his sisters mouth so were all peachy  
TG: jimmy i told you about this before five is the lowest defcon now shut up and get me my fucking coffee  
TG: interns huh  
TG: now where were we  
TT: Your uncharacteristic use of peachy, perhaps?  
TG: no fuck you this is a peachy fucking situation  
TG: all dripping sticky down my chins cleft when i bite into it like a juice commercial  
TG: spraying out to get a couple droplets on the camera  
TG: but the camera guy doesnt flinch this isnt the first squirter hes had on his hands  
TG: this sounds characteristically peachy to me doctor lalonde  
TG: actually i should be the fucking doctor here  
TG: you havent even completed your temporal residency whereas i have several phds in the field of weird time shit with attendant minors in like  
TG: clocks and shit  
TT: Getting your doctors mixed up a bit, don't you think?  
TT: It’s really killing my immersion.  
TT: Can we get back on topic?  
TG: hey i see what youre doing dont try to distract me  
TG: what the fuck justified him jumping back  
TT: Maybe you wanted to crack a cold one with the boys, but found yourself with only a single boy and nary a cold one in sight.  
TT: The least you could do is travel back in time and put a couple Buds in the fridge.  
TT: If you want to know so bad, why don't you track him down and ask him?  
TT: You know all your favourite hiding spots.  
TT: Such as the closet.  
TG: no uh  
TG: hes here  
TT: And what did he tell you?  
TG: were uh  
TG: not talking  
TT: Hm.  
TT: One second.  


* * *

CURRENT tentacleTherapist [CTT] at 11:33 opened memo on board Pernicious temporal-erotic snarl.  
CTT: Getting cold feet, David?  
CURRENT FUTURE turntechGodhead [CFTG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.  
CFTG: you sure he cant read this  
CTT: Do you see him reading it?  
CFTG: point taken  
CFTG: sorry im out of practice on this shit you dragged me out of retirement  
CTT: Out of practice getting laid?  
CFTG: f you  
CTT: If it's any consolation, I didn't miss this memo crap. Glad we never had it on Pesterchum.  
CFTG: how do i explain it to him without sounding like a creep  
CTT: Why don't you start by assuring him nothing bad will transpire?  
CFTG: when i time travel shit usually already has transpired  
CFTG: hard to trust yourself with the informational asymmetry  
CFTG: i know how hes gonna take it when i try to explain  
CTT: From lived experience, or an assumption?  
CFTG: assumption mostly no daves ever tried to get in my pants as anything but a joke  
CTT: Sure. As a joke.  
CTT: Then I suggest you just try to do it as a joke.  
CFTG: well  
CFTG: its marginally less funny considering the circumstances rose  
CFTG: hes gonna have a lot of questions  
CTT: This is going nowhere. Put down your phone and kiss him.  
CTT: I’ll be cheering you on through the viewport.  
TT blocked TG from responding to memo.

* * *

“So,” he says, sitting on your bed and staring past you at your alchemised record collection.

“So,” you reply. Your hands ball into fists inside your pockets, and you pray for good news.

“So. Wanna make out?” He sends you a glance out of the corner of his shades and his lips quirk into a nervous smile.

“Talk about a fuckin’ icebreaker. At least give me the skinny first, charmer.” You drag your chair over to the bed and sit facing him—using the chair like a normal person, not like a weirdo with an affectation for bad cinema and worse television.

“Charmer? It literally took the universe ending for us to get any.” He laughs darkly, like Bro used to. You guess it's your laugh, but it sounds different coming from outside. You're pretty sure girls like stuff like that. Hard to tell. You study the way his mouth forms into a wry, sad smile. It's not gay to stare when it's your body. He’s stubbly, compared to you. The way you get after a week of putting it off. It dawns on you that he reminds you of Davesprite, a little.

“Alright, enough messing around. If you're the real future me, answer this.” You sit forward a little like you're sharing a secret with him. “Why are we so fucking awesome?”

“That's the best fucking question of all time.” He shrugs. “I'm not the  _ real _ future you. If that matters. Means I don’t know what you’re gonna say, so we can have an actual conversation.” You instantly sit up straight, and your feet plant flat on the floor.

“Fuck, okay, what do I have to do. Is it Gamzee? Am I gonna have to kill that-”

“Easy, dude. It's taken care of. It's one of those dumb things that need a little...nudge. I'm pretty sure trolls make bad timelines like it goes out of style.”

“Yeah, that scans. How do they even have society? You'd think they'd rip each other to shreds too often to fucking... make episodes of Fresh Prince.”

“Right? How do they even have Will Smith. Like, that raises so many questions.” He laughs a little more casually and you share it with him. Two dudes sharing one laugh over their own shitty joke.

“But okay, inexplicable cultural phenomenons aside, I haven't seen another Dave outside dreams for a while. If they keep fucking up how come I don't see Daves all the time?” 

“Well, soon as it happened I figured why. I mean, I could head off the problem without you ever knowing what was. Not that it would bother me, but even a stone cold dude gets tired of dumping his own bodies, and we don't even have convenient lava oceans now. Figures we probably were saving ourselves the trouble.”

“But not you, huh? Guess you're my problem.” You shoot him a look over the top of your glasses. A little guy-to-guy request for some realness.

“Like I'm gonna go out that way. Not when we both have the question on our minds.” He kicks his feet and looks down at his sneakers.

“Like, The Question. Worthy of capitals, maybe color that shit. Like the Green Sun. That kinda question?”

“Yeah. That kinda question. The Ultimate Riddle.”

“Alright, chief. You're cutting the knot. So, are we fucking gay, or what?” He laughs at you and you feel your cheeks’ luminosity rising a couple digits.

“Dude, if thinking about it long enough solved the problem I would have flown into the Green Sun like a piece of garbage instead of dropping the mother of all spoilers on you. Like you want to go your whole life on ‘I must be gay ‘cus my future self said so’? I came here to  _ find out _ .” He leans forward a bit and the penny drops on why Rose was being even more reserved than usual.

“Fuck,” you grumble, “you weren't kidding?”

“Can't I be kidding and still want it? We have a nice mouth.” He nods to his side. To the empty space on the bed next to him. Your stomach feels like it's doing a kickflip mctwist. Somehow you end up next to him anyway, dragging your feet like they’re wearing concrete slippers. Maybe that's evidence enough you've been wanting this.

It's a while before you even look at each other, but when you do you can feel something is different. His hand comes up and whips off his sunglasses; you could get sucked into his pupils. You always hated your eyes, and here you are fawning over them and thinking about kissing the owner.

Doomed Dave is cooler than you are, blinking slowly and taking off your shades without asking. Of course he knows you would if your hands weren't shaking. It must be some fucking... rule. You need to face your own death at least twice and then ice spontaneously forms in your veins and makes you into a particularly impressive ice golem. That's how chill he seems, leaning in for a kiss, so chill that you're surprised by the warmth of his lips.

One. Two. Two and a half. Then he pulls away and your chest clenches, because you  _ just kissed a guy _ and it hardly matters that it's you. A cool guy wouldn't show it, so you don't, but you're freaking out. You can't find anywhere to look but at him, and he's sweating a little too.

“Is it just me-” he starts, and you reach out and take his hand.

“Dude. It literally is just you. How was I?” You come off a little desperate.

“Hey, you didn't bite. Makes you better than everyone else we see on a daily basis.”

You give him a smooch and remind him that you could bite, if you wanted, teeth pressing on his lower lip. You can't shred him like an alien, and you're not as cruel as Rose. He's probably thankful. Your alternate self tries it on you and  _ you’re _ definitely thankful. It makes the fear in your chest jump for a (nearly exact) second, like this Dave is a monstrous tulpa of all your repressed desires here to devour you. Then that moment passes, and you're sliding your fingers between his, fitting perfectly.

Neither of you know quite what is supposed to come next. Dead air abounds, the silence suffocatingly thick.

“So, uh. Pretty fucking gay, huh?” you manage.

“Majorly. Fucking, homoerotic as shit,” he says, and leans closer.

“Good kiss, though?” 

“Dude, it's us. We only do shit bad on purpose,” He says with a wink and a kiss. They don't last as long now; his taste is familiar and comfortable, because it's yours. Undercut with mint, and you imagine he brushed his teeth before he traveled here, with just this in mind. At least, that's what you'd do, so you take it as practically certain he would too.

Things stall out after you swap kisses until it's mundane. Your hand slips from his without you thinking much of it.

“Definitely gay,” you say, and Dave nods. Which is to say you both nod, because it barely needs saying, it's so obvious.

“Well, what do gay fellas do next?” he asks, and you gulp. It's so like you, to shift the problem. That ass.

“Fuck, you think I've been researching? You're the one who planned this. Go study some porn and then jump back to this moment.” He chuckles at your suggestions and lays his warm forehead against yours. It’s casual and safe, so you just stay like that. It's hard to know what to do, and you feel no pressure to hurry in finding out. Maybe you'll just stay like this with him until entropy takes him to the chopping block. His breathing is synchronised with your own so perfectly that right now, there's no difference between you. You are Dave, he is Dave. Everything is Dave.

Rose comes in the door and splits your serenity down the middle. You scramble away like you've been caught doing something filthy. Something  _ forbidden _ . And of course she smiles like she's watching you make a fool of yourself. 

“Hello, Dave. And you too, Dave.” She sits neatly on the chair you once occupied and offers you her flask. You turn your nose up instantly.

“The fuck are you doing?” you grumble. She shrugs and turns to other-Dave, who happily takes a little swig and does his cool-kid best to not gag. The fucker, upstaging your chillness. Whatever, straight-edge is still cool, right?

“I'm instigating,” she says, crossing one leg over the other. “Because you two are nominees in the Useless Lesbians award for bad foreplay. I mean, really. It's been like fifteen minutes and I've only seen you kiss.”

“I would know if it's been fifteen minutes.”

“No, dude, it was.” Dave says. He seems quite cordial about Rose’s intrusion. Fucking cahoots, no doubt. Rose has her fingers in just about every pie ( Phrasing , you imagine Kanaya telling you).

“You're not watching us,” you say.

“I already was, darling. I'm just doing it in a way that allows for some...coaching.” She looks at Dave, the other one, and smiles at him. “Put your hand under his shirt.”

“Don't you da-” He shoves his hand up your shirt before you can finish objecting. You don't flinch—which is quite fucking spectacular of you. He's so careful, stopping just shy of touching scars you'd rather nobody ever feels. His fingertips don't touch everywhere but you can feel them tickling the nigh-invisible blond hairs on your chest. He's reserved, which is probably how you’ve always touched  _ anyone _ , but it feels very pleasant.

He begins to peel you out of your shirt and you whine. It clings to you in places from the sweat but he's obviously expecting that, and he maneuvers it over your elbows and head without dislodging a hair. You shrink into your corner of the room, feeling desperately bare in front of them. Your sister and your duplicate, but you still feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

Before you can hyperventilate, you feel skin on your fingers—a hand from each of them, something to squeeze until the vulnerable moment passes. Dave kisses your knuckles and takes off his own shirt. Smug fuck. It's not nearly as bad when you undress yourself; the only person to ever strip you was Bro, when he'd gone too far and cut you.

“Hey,” Dave whispers. He sounds soft as shit, and it's the hottest thing you've ever heard. “You trust me?”

“Fuckin’ course.” You say, pausing for a deep breath. His eyes don't stray from yours while you exhale through your nose.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” and the sound has hardly left your lips when he touches your chest. His thumbs graze your nipples, far more surely than when you experimented with yourself. You hiss, the air leaving your lungs faster than when you swab a gash with alcohol. It's fucking crazy how good it can feel, just because it's not your own hands. Only days separate you. Eight, you think, something instinctive when you smell him. Eight days, maybe nine if you're pushing it. If he was a candle it'd be called Dave’s Room, but it's so good on a  _ person _ that you want to fucking breathe him in.

You touch him back and start to lose track of time again. It feels so good to stroke over his skin, the tense muscles you know intimately. You pause on the softness of his stomach, and he blushes pink. You'd never admit even to yourself that you were a little out of shape after so long, so you must have struck a nerve for him.

You don't reassure him, you just touch it like you love it, because you  _ do _ —detached from the guilt, the complexes about your own shape and conditioning, you find his slight belly absolutely gorgeous. It's cute, which is maybe more like saying it's humanizing, making you think about him as a  _ person _ that could  _ like you _ rather than a sculpted pornstar Adonis that you can't relate to. And no, you aren't going to unpack that last part. Rose would gladly do that for you if she was privy to your inner monologue, but for once you're at a loss for words. She couldn't pry it from you if she tried.

Rose, incidentally, has joined you on the bed. She leans into the bare back of your alternate and touches his wrist, encouraging his boldness. It's fucking scary to see the look in her eyes when she takes his wrist and makes him touch your thigh, but it's a good scary. The kind that goes to your dick and makes it throb and stretch your jeans.

You don't hesitate long before undoing your fly and giving it space to breathe, stabbing upwards and tenting your briefs. Your arousal is embarrassingly obvious; but then, so is his. You cup between his legs and he grinds on your palm, making little grumbles that you recognise from late night sessions with Playboy. When you slip your hand into his cramped skinny jeans, Rose coos approvingly at your forwardness. He feels so much bigger in your hand than your own does. One of those tricks of the mind, but it doesn't stop you from feeling a moment of trepidation that he picks up on.

“Listen,” he whispers, then decides you ain’t listening enough, kissing you quickly to ground you in his existence, “I promise we don't have to do anything like  _ that _ , okay? I mean, fuck, what are we, a pair of fucking queers?”

“Word.” You nod, feeling less cool than you intend to. Rubbing his cock is awkward like this, and he only makes you try for a little moment before unzipping and giving you much appreciated room to move. You jerk him like a pro, which you reckon any boy ought to be by this age. He winces a little, and you pull your hand back, spitting in your palm and returning to task with some much-needed smoothness. 

It's only natural someone would end up on their back here, and it turns out to be you pretty damn quick. Your hand becomes a cocksleeve for Dave, who slowly pistons back and forth. You focus on his face. His eyes are closed. It doesn't stop you studying every twitch of his stoic lips, pursed in exquisite thought like one of those Greek marble sculptures. Is he imagining someone else? Maybe. You probably would give it a try. Maybe he's just been through a fucking lot. He's got an inevitable fucking  _ death _ on his platter, for fuck’s sake. He deserves this. He deserves...more, even.

“Use my mouth,” you croak, mouth drying up. But it's fine. A cool guy should just... not even offer it, just tell him he can use it. He wordlessly accepts, maybe just fucking amazed by the balls on you. Only when he's straddling your chest, the hot thing on your cheek, blocking your view, do you realise that you've signed a check your body is a little nervous to be cashing. You've never been ashamed of what you had... well, maybe a little, but god tier had some words to say about that. In your opinion, it’s a way better perk than little dainty fairy wings, until it's on your fucking face and so  _ hot _ . 

He smells like the inside of your briefs, which is something you'd be embarrassed to admit you don't half mind. It's different than pussy. Maybe better. Not like you're in a great place to judge that. Still, it does something fucking magical, because how else do you explain how goddamn  _ ready _ you feel? Your tongue can't stay in your mouth. You lick him a few times, tasting the clean sweat. It tastes how he smells, and twice as delicious are his grunts. Yeah, you're thinking you're into guys. 

You open your mouth just a little, so that he has to  _ push _ through your lips and spread them around his head. Playing keep away with your teeth is way harder than you hoped. Leaves your jaw hurting a bit, and you tap his hip to let him know to slow down.

“It'll be easier if you come at it from the other side.” Rose kindly informs you two. Could have said something sooner. He pulls out and you blink a little.

She uses her soft, confident touch to maneuver you into a pose you've seen in porno. That's almost certainly where she got it from. Your head is hanging off the bed while he stands, finding your waiting lips. You give him a clear thumbs up and he goes in, holding your neck carefully and resting a flat palm on your pec. Easier is a fucking relative term, but Rose  _ is _ right. You only gag when he thrusts deep on pure instinct and stabs your throat, and he mumbles an apology.

Thoughts melt away while he lovingly fucks your mouth. You don't need to think– your lizard brain knows how to just swab him with your tongue and remember to breathe. This is not remotely how you expected your first time with a guy to go, but here you are, eyes closed, listening to him moan and gasp and sloppily make out with Rose, who must be having a fucking field day watching. You're so fucking jealous. But he only has the one chance at this, and you can't deny him that. He's the bravest Dave you've ever met for even trying.

Forgetting how rock solid you are is fucking impressive. You only remember when Rose sits on your lap and starts grinding, and you feel wetness in the same instant you remember your cock exists. You wish you could see her composure break—you  _ know  _ it does, the way she hesitates with you poised at her entrance.

You touch her thighs– a damn good place to keep your hands– and play back the shapely curves you've seen before. Her hesitation ends right then. You swear nothing has ever felt as magnificent as this. Time is slipping for you again. They're both so fucking hot, viscerally, pulsing against your tongue and around your prick. You are acutely aware of all three heartbeats in the room. Doomed Dave is getting close, the fastest of you three.

“Don't stop until you cum,” Rose instructs. You can imagine the look she gave him. She gets faster too, and you moan like a whore around the cock fucking your mouth. You want him to feel good, so fucking good. 

When he bursts, you start swallowing before he even manages to moan. You can't see much, mostly ballsack and denim, but you can feel his thighs trembling either side of your face. Your tongue goes still, ‘cus you never could stand overstimulation and you wouldn't do that to a homie. It's not your first time tasting this—it's everything you remember, unsavory with a distinctly bitter afternote. Do you care? Fuck no. If you're a faggot now, you might as well be a cool one. Own it.

He pulls out, and drops to his knees to kiss you. It's awkward but you make it work and pump your hips up, trying to hear Rose squeak. You know you can reach her weak spots, and the lucky Dave in front of you gets to kiss you  _ and _ watch her lusty, gyrating body fall out of rhythm. Your lips don't leave him for what feels like an eternity, and you cum in Rose before you let him go. His tongue presses on yours, wet and gorgeous, while you moan far louder than he did into his mouth. For once, you don't feel remotely ashamed to finish in front of someone. Two fucking someones, actually, check it. He pulls away and you suck in a lungful of air.

“Guess you figured that riddle,” he says, breathing hard but talking smooth.

“Guess I d-” The air is crushed from your lungs as Rose flops cheerily on top of you.

“Congrats. You're gay. I could have told you that,” she huffs. Her cheeks are red, and she looks adorable. You wonder if yours are too. You look to the other you in the room, and his sure are. Come to think of it, he's cute like this too.

“Just…” You grab your cheeks and close your eyes for a second. “Tell me something. Whose idea was this anyway?”

“Dude.” Dave chuckles. “You've been thinking about it. Of course it was our idea.”

You smile. Of course it was your idea. You look him up and down, from his slobber-slick dick past his chest and to his flushed rosy cheeks and a rare smile of his own.

“What's next for you?” you ask, lifting your head and scooting onto the bed before you get spine problems.

“Next for me? I'm out of here, I think. Overstayed my welcome,” Dave says. He pulls up his pants casually and reaches for his shirt.

“Huh.” You don't know what to say. Sorry? It was always hard enough finding the dead Daves. He deserves a send off. You watch him get dressed and rack your mind. Something cool. That's what two bros would share post-fuck. Rose says something poignant and basically bullshit to him that you tune out, trying to think up the kind of farewell he merits. As he turns to leave, you make your play.

“Thanks for not making me puke like a geyser all over your bald-headed gag-hammer, dude.”


End file.
